User blog:WayfinderOwl/BTM: 'Tis The Season 2
Chains For Marley Even under a layer of snow, New Coventry lost none of the dingy broken vibe that the neighborhood was known for. Becky had asked me to come to the tenements with her, to get something for one of the costumes. The doors were locked tight and boarded up. Becky leaned against the wall, arms folded, tapping her fingers on her elbow. “What are we waiting for?” I asked. “An old friend,” Becky replied. “Okay. What could we get from the tenements, apart from rats or cockroaches?” “Chains.” “Oh! For Jacob Marley’s costume. Dibs on chaining Gary up.” Becky laughed. “Actually, Gary isn’t all that bad.” “For what? A mental patient? A deranged sociopath, that would probably one day wash up on some beach with no teeth or fingerprints.” Becky laughed again. “Becky, in all honesty, how did that happen? You seem pretty cool. Determined and know what you want out of life. Gary is seriously crazy, who needs to be medicated to get out of bed in the morning—if he even sleeps at all. Mismatch.” “We grew up together.” “Oh.” “Here he is,” said Becky, pushing herself away from the wall with her foot. Ricky, one of the Greasers, crossed over the road. Black leather jacket clad, and cigarette tucked behind his ear. He waved. “Hey, Becks,” said Ricky. “You just get hotter.” His gaze traced down her slim firm perky figure. Not that I blame him. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to Pete—or anyone for that matter—she was hot. “Not going to happen, Rick,” Becky informed him. “Are you going to let us in or what?” Ricky lead us around to the alley, removed a screwdriver from his pocket. Jimmied it into a grove under the window, pushing it open a few inches, before fully pushing the wooden framed muck coated glass pane upwards. Gesturing his hand towards the open window, Ricky said, “Ladies first.” Becky rested her foot on a wooden box under the window, hands resting on the windowsill. “And, don’t stare at my ass,” Becky told Ricky. Until she uttered those words, he totally was. She slipped her leg over the windowsill, slipped her other leg over after it. I followed after her. Nodded to Ricky the moment I entered the dilapidated shithole of a room. Caved in walls rotting away to the support beams, draped in cobwebs so thick each string of web had its own cobweb. Floors so dirty that I would have to wipe my feet when I left. “How long do you want me to wait?” asked Ricky. “Until we come back. We’ll be back quicker, if you tell me where the chains are,” Becky replied. “Go right up to the top floor. You’ll have to pull it down from the hook. We were going to make a ladder with ‘em, but no one has the balls to climb down, ‘cause Hal almost fell.” Becky shook her head and turned away, uttering “idiots” under her breath. I waited until we were in the dirty hallway, before asking, “I’m guessing you two dated?" “You can’t be a girl born and raised in New Coventry, without having dated a Greaser,” Becky explained. “Oh.” “What?” asked Becky, turning to look at me. “Nothing. I just heard you only date jocks.” Becky rolled her eyes. “And don’t tell me, that bitch Mandy told you that. Well it isn’t true. Last year the Jock seniors made a “Who’s Hot” list. Just because they listed me above her, she told everyone that I slept with all of them in the locker room.” “Is that why you and Ricky split?” “No.” Becky spoke nothing more about it. We walked in an awkward silence up the stairs, through rooms even more shittier and dirtier than the last, out onto a fire escape, up another flight of creaky mold riddled stairs. My heart was almost ready to plummet out of my ass with every step. Silently I prayed that the floor wouldn’t give, sending me plummeting to my untimely death. At the very top of the last set of stairs, hooks hung from the ceiling. Many chains dangled down through the caved in hole spanning many floors. From two hooks closer together, there was the makings of a chain ladder. Becky reached up, and slipped one of the spare chains off the hook. It uncoiled, plummeting down to the ground, landing with a loud clink and clang. Becky reached over to the chain ladder, stretched her foot down resting it on a lower rung. “You only live this life once,” she muttered. I stood there shocked, watching Becky climb down that ladder fearlessly. “Screw it.” I followed after her. Terrified to look at anything but my own hands. Each breath felt cold and tight in my chest. As if the very chains I climbed down where tightly wound around my torso. Adrenaline coursed through my veins half the way down. I felt strong. Invincible. As if this was nothing. The moment my feet touched the ground, I wanted to scream “WOOHOO!” or say “BOOYEAH!” I did neither. Becky picked up one end of the chain, and started coiling it up. I took hold of the other end, to help her. “Look, it isn’t what you think,” said Becky. “What? Coming here.” “No. Me and Ricky. We got together, because it was expected. He just got his leather jacket. Won his first bike race. He asked me out in front of the whole clique. I was flattered. No one had ever showed any interest in me. I went from a skinny little nobody, to a Greaser’s Girl. It didn’t work out. I was starting to figure out who I was. He was obsessed with his bike. Smoking—which I think is a disgusting habit. He was weirdly jealous of Gary. Before we got to the point where one side expected the other to choose, I broke up with him.” “For the best,” I agreed. “If you’re not both into it, then what is the point?” “Exactly. What about you?” “What about me?” “Beatrice.” “Oh, yeah.” I focused my hands on the chain links I coiled around and around. “We went on two dates. The last ended badly. Justin seriously poked the bear.” “Acted like a complete douche, getting you to say the wrong thing at the wrong time?” “Yeah. Now she won’t talk to me. I go to the library every day, hoping she will talk to me, but no such luck. Pete tells me I should just give up.” “Don’t listen to him. Beatrice needs time. Let her cool off. After time passes, tell her how you feel. If it is meant to be, she will forgive you. If not, then you can walk away knowing you did the right thing. Either way, hanging around her all the time won’t change her mind. It makes you look like a complete stalker.” After coiling the chain up, we had to carry it between the two of us. A coil each. Ricky was still in the alleyway contently smoking a cigarette. Becky thanked Ricky for his help. The look in his eyes was a bizarre mixture of joyous heartbreak. We parted ways with him, walking southwards, towards Blue Skies Industrial Park. I allowed Becky to take the lead. She knew the dirty streets better than I did. Shortcuts through alleyways, past storage warehouses. The occasional broken down car, missing a wheel or two, or wing mirrors. “Can I ask you something?” said Becky. I nodded. “Go ahead.” “This weird quest you’re on to find a clique, is that what you really want?” “Gary told you.” “He did,” Becky replied. “Yeah, it is. I just like what it stands for. A whole group of kids closer than family. They chose each other.” “Josh, it is nice you have a goal, but you have to face the realization that there might not be a place for you.” “That won’t happen.” “Try for a minute to categorize me into a clique,” said Becky, stopping to face me. I looked her right in the grey eyes. Took a few moments to mentally absorb her appearance. Dark makeup. Dyed hair. In the winter she had a little bit of the look of a greaser. Beyond that, she was a devote vegan. Hangs around with a sociopath and social outcasts. Has time for everyone, even a miserable kid about to get stitched up by his so called friends, giving him a penny she found on the street for good luck. She was too poor for the preps to even spend a second looking down their nose at her. Cared nothing for sports or cheerleaders, the only thing the jocks wanted her for was her body. She walked away from a possible life of a greaser. Had too much compassion for others, to even waste her life with the bullies. Didn’t care for studying enough to be a nerd. Staying in school, thus earning the hatred of the townie kids. “Can’t do it, can you?” asked Becky. “What makes you say that?” I dismissed. “You’ve been staring at me for nearly two minutes.” “Oh… then, no. I can’t categorize you.” “And it isn’t the end of the world.” We walked across a bridge, to Blue Skies. In the shadow of the power plant was a trailer park. This place made New Coventry look like a suburb. On the side of the road were two kids and a wreck of a car. I say kids but the kid, who stood resting his foot on the front bumper of the car, had to be at least eighteen. A big ape of a boy. Tough jaw and crazy eyes. He wore a puffy orange jacket and a black skull cap. Some kid was under the car on a skateboard. All I could see was his high tops sticking out. Laying on the hood of the car was a bike chain with at least two dozen padlocks and a ring of keys attached to it. The big guy looked over to us. “What do you want, School Babies?” “Padlocks,” said Becky, cutting to the point. “And the keys.” The big guy laughed. “You hear that, Boom? This chick wants all the nice padlocks we stole.” “She hot?” came from under the car. The big guy looked Becky up and down. She folded her arms across her chest, looking away from him awkwardly. His lustful stare lingered for thirty seconds over the curves of her body. “Skinny, perky in all the right places. Has a bit of a goth look going on,” the big guy said. “Ten bucks, and that girl’s number,” said the guy presumably named Boom. “Five, and I don’t call the cops,” said Becky. The kid under the car slid out. He was a Hispanic guy, with messy black hair and a soul patch. He rose to his full height of six feet, leaning on the hood of the car. “Twelve, and I take you out on a date that will rock your world, baby.” Becky stared at him blankly. “Alright, all cards on the table. Fifteen bucks, and I give you my number,” he bargained. Becky reached into her jacket pocket. She had ten bucks. Turned to me and asked, “How much you got?” “Ur…” I reached in my pockets, and pulled out all the money I had. Five bucks, and more change than I could count at a glance. Becky took it, and started counting. The kid called Boom stroked the hood of the car with his finger. “I’m going to blow this up. Wanna watch?” Becky slapped the money down on the hood of the car. Snatched the chain with the padlocks. “Twenty bucks and this conversation never happened.” Before he could say another word, she turned around and walked away. I had to jog to keep up with her. Her pace slowed down near the woods leading towards the junkyard. Her grip around the bike chain was so tight, her knuckles had gone white. “Those guys are perverts,” I said. “I know. They are complete morons, who I won’t give a second thought.” “If it helps, my first thought when I met you, wasn’t the same as them.” “It wasn’t?” “Nah. First time I saw you, you were in the foyer. Protesting about Slawter’s class.” “That protest got me nowhere. Slawter still cuts up animals.” “But they’re dead.” Becky stopped and slapped me hard around the face. I let go of the chain coil. It hit the ground with a thump. I rubbed my cheek with my hand. “What was that for?!” I demanded. “Just because an animal looks different to a human, doesn’t mean they should be desecrated in a classroom. If you walked into biology, and there were human corpses draped over the workbenches, would you cut them up just because they are dead? Well, would you?” “Well, no,” I admitted. “And that is why I have to protest. Because people at our school think that animals are worthless creatures to cut up for a grade.” I let her have that one. The gates to the junkyard were closed shut. Padlocked and chained shut. Snow draped over the top. They were at least ten or twelve feet high. Climbing over them would be impossible and dangerous. “Locked tight,” I muttered. “What do we need from here, anyway?” “Pliers. We will need to cut off spare chain links.” “I can get some from the auto shop. I’m cool with the greaser kids.” “That could work.” “I call dibs on chaining up Gary.” Becky laughed. “I remember, and after what you’ve done today, agreed. I swear, you and Gary are the only two boys I’ve ever spoken to, that actually treats me like a human being. Everyone either assumes I’m easy, or hits on me.” Between us, we carried the chain back through the woods. Taking a much slower pace, than we had done before. “If it helps, I know trashy easy women. I was raised by one. That will never be you.” “Josh, you’re a really sweet guy. If Beatrice doesn’t see that, then her loss. I honestly do think you will find what you’re looking for. You won’t end up an outcast.” “You know what clique I belong in, don’t you?” “I have a hunch.” “You’re not going to tell me,” I assumed. “Nope.” “Not even a hint?” “Nope. I think the journey is more important than the destination.” As much as I didn’t want to openly admit it, Becky was right. Category:Blog posts Category:WayfinderOwl's Fanfiction